Born in Death (In Death 23)

“By not cooperating you made my night. Now, Winfield Chase, you’re under arrest for assaulting an officer.” She bent down to roll him onto his face, yank his arms behind his back, and slap on the restraints. “And believe me when I say that’s just the beginning.”

She looked up in time to see Madeline run out of the bedroom, her hands curled like claws, her face murderous. Even as Eve sprang up, Baxter leaped out of the doorway and took Madeline down with a flying tackle.

“Sorry, Dallas. She got away from me.”

“No problem.” She rolled her shoulder, watched Roarke and McNab come up the stairs.

“First level’s secure, Lieutenant,” McNab told her. “Three droids—one servant, two security. They’re down.”

“And so are these two. McNab, help Baxter keep them down. Roarke and I are going up.”

20

ON THE THIRD LEVEL A DROID IN A PALE GREEN lab coat was sprawled on the floor against an overturned chair.

“We had to take it down.” Peabody pulled her master out of a lock slot in a door designed to blend into the wall.

Trueheart crouched in front of a small comp unit. “The droid must have deactivated this when it heard us come in.” Trueheart shook his head. “I can’t reactivate.”

“I’ll have a go at the lock.” Roarke took some tools out of his coat pocket.

“Looks like a medical.” Eve gave the droid a light boot with her foot. “Portable birthing equipment, fetal monitor.” She lifted her chin toward a roll cart. “Warming tray. Got your towels, your scale, and so on. I saw this stuff at the birthing class. She’s in there.”

“Must have cams on her,” Peabody said. “Droid could sit out here, monitor her on-screen. Suspects?”

“Down. McNab and Baxter have them. Call this in, Peabody. I want the suspects taken in. Put an ambulance and OB team on alert. Roarke?”

“It’s coming. Complicated little bastard.”

“Peabody, have uniforms pick up a copy of the warrant on Cavendish. I want him brought in now. And contact Reo and Lieutenant Smith, give them the situation. I want a warrant on Bruberry, too. Let’s have a big party down at Central.”

“I’ll pick up the hats and streamers.”

“Nearly there,” Roarke mumbled. “Aye, you shagging bitch, I’ve got you now.”

A dot of green light flashed along the narrow strip of chrome.

“Might have another guard inside,” Eve said, “So—”

“You go low,” Roarke finished.

With a nod, she shoved the door open. “Lights on,” she called out, swept the room with her weapon, with her eyes. “Tandy Willowby, it’s the police. It’s Dallas.”

Quiet classical music played, and the air smelled subtly floral. The walls were cheerfully warm yellow with paintings of meadows and calm blue seas. Cozy chairs, padded tables, snow falling gently outside the screened windows created a scene of comfort and ease.

In the

bed, a pale, hollow-eyed Tandy sat up, gripping something white and sharp in her fist.

“Dallas?” Her voice was thin, rusty, and her body began to shake. “Dallas? They’re going to take my baby. They’re going to take him. I can’t get out.”

“It’s all right now. You’re all right now. We’re going to take you out.”

“They locked me in. I can’t keep the baby. I don’t have the right.”

“Bullshit. Peabody.”

“You don’t have to worry about them anymore. Here.” Peabody moved slowly toward the bed. “Why don’t you give me that now? We’ll get you a coat. We’ll take you to the hospital.”